Carnival, Boss Canvas Man
by RedHarlequin
Summary: This is a Ravenloft story written to go along with the Carnival supplement with a few new acts for your Straw house. It begins with a downtrodden, young man who finds a Phantom Flyer. In the flyer he sees an exotic man who calls to him.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I love carnivals and circuses. And I do enjoy a good scare. Ravenloft was/is my favorite of the Dungeons and Dragons settings with Al-Qadim being my second favorite. And the Ravenloft supplement "Carnival" was one of my absolute favorite publications. This was the first of my submissions for the Ravenloft websites netbooks. One of my favorite pass times was to create characters, then write histories for them, whether I would ever play them didn't matter. This story has two characters I created, plus a few just for the story. Although one of the characters is from the Al-Qadim setting and created using the "Al-Qadim Arabian Adventures" supplement, I specifically didn't put this in the crossover section, because he was never meant to be played there. When I wrote this piece for the Ravenloft website, I wrote it in the style of the Carnival supplement, as if the barkers are talking to the person entering the carnival gates, with few words from that person, and the game statistics in a boxed section. Since this is for fanfiction and not for character statistics, I have rewritten/reworked the game stats sections somewhat, but it still sounds a little like a DM section. Also, in the title, I realize we aren't supposed to use all caps, but I specifically left the word "carnival" that way as an emphasis. If my yelling offends anyone, let me know and I'll change it.

Disclaimer: Ravenloft and Al-Qadim aren't mine, nor is the "Carnival" supplement. Any references to any of the characters, places and settings are solely the property of TSR.

CARNIVAL: Boss Canvas Man

More Acts To Fill Your Straw House

Carnivals, circuses, side shows. Are they real or are they just done with makeup and mirrors? How we love them though. Through we may not admit this aloud. But, in the deep recesses of our souls we yearn for them.

_Because I could not stop for Death,_

_He kindly stopped for me;_

_The carriage held but just ourselves_

_And Immortality._

_- Emily Dickinson, __Because I could not stop for Death, stanza 1_

Prelude

It was a cold day; the sky was cloudless; the grass brown; the sun hung low in the sky. The first snow could be smelled by the residents of Morfenzi on the eastern foothills in Falkovia. Morfenzi is a large city.

The downtrodden people walk about the city in their drab clothing, being overworked, just to have their hard earned money taken away 'till they have barely enough to live, and then terrorized by the darklord's troupes.

But today was different somehow. There was something in the air. And everyone seemed to notice it. Some people seemed to walk with their head higher than normal, as if to see if they were trying to hear something. And some seem to hide deeper into their coats.

This is what a young man, about 25 but looked 35, with unkempt shoulder-length hair, and a brand of a hawk on his forehead (like everyone else had), noticed as he walked home from his job at the bakery. He had small bundle underneath his arm and a small porcelain jug with a cork stopper in his hand. He felt it too, a sense of hope.

Then he noticed something nailed to the side of a building. It was a piece of paper. He took the paper down from the building wall and looked at it. There were no words on it, not that he could have read them anyway, just a picture. But it was no ordinary picture. It was obviously magical. It had swirling images of strange looking people with colorful clothing and wide smiles. The man's dull eyes lit up for the first time in his life.

Noticing his joy, a militia guard nearby stormed over to the man and ripped the paper from his hand, and shoving him up against the wall of the building. He dropped the bundle and the jug, which remarkably didn't break.

"What is this?" he demanded, angrily.

"Just something I found nailed to the wall, sir," the young man whispered, the dullness returning to his eyes.

The guard looked at the paper of swirling images and was mesmerized. The young man took advantage of the situation, picked up his bundle and jug and walked slowly away, depressed. He liked the pictures. He stuck his free hand in his pocket, and felt something there. He pulled out a piece of paper, just like the one the guard took from him. He stuck it quickly back into his pocket, hoping no one saw, and ran home.

He placed the jug and bundle on his counter and opened it, stale bread from the bakery he works at. Then he cut a hunk of cheese off of a roll in his cupboard. He took the stopper out of the jug, hot broth with a hunk of pig fat in it. He placed them on a dull white porcelain plate with chips around the edge. Then he placed it on his unfinished, warped kitchen table along with a spoon. He then grabbed a dented silver mug and filled it with wine, cheap wine, then sat down to eat. He stared at the picture in his hand as he absently ate. The colorfully dressed figures in the pictures smiled at him. But there was one that caught his eye. He was exotic, with dark skin, tattoos, earrings and a smile to die for.

Then he heard a noise outside his small home. It sounded like a ruckus, like the militia make when they arrest someone. He went and looked out his small, dirty front window. It was early morning. Where had yesterday gone? He thought. He opened the front door and stepped outside. He saw no militia, just citizens. They were mumbling amongst themselves. There was only one thing he could understand amongst the other indistinct words, "Carnival."

Circus Lingo

**Boss Canvas Man:** the man whose job is to decide exactly where and how the tents should be put up at a new circus lot.

**First of May:** A rookie on the circus. A person in their first season with the show.

**Funambulist: **a tightrope walker.

**Gilly:** anyone not connected with the circus; an outsider.

**Guys:** heavy ropes or cables that help to support poles or high wire rigging.

**Straw House:** a sold out circus performance

**Kinker:** any experienced circus performer; the name comes from tumblers who worked the kinks out of sore muscles after exercise.

**Midway:** the area outside of the entrance to the main tent, typically lined with concessionaires.

**Tear Down:** take down equipment and ready the circus for moving.


	2. Chapter 2

_We slowly drove, he knew no haste,_

_And I had put away_

_My labor, and my leisure too,_

_For his civility._

_-Emily Dickinson, __Because I could not stop for Death, stanza 2_

Act One: Your Humble Servant

_"A thousand, thousand welcomes, noble one! May Fate smile upon you and bring you to Enlightenment, and may you have joy of your visit here in Carnival. I am Najib. And I grew up in Zakhara, the Land of Fate. On a world and a plane of existence far from here where the setting of the sun does not bring dread and horror. I could tell you wondrous stories of voyages far and near, of powerful Sha'irs and their wondrous genies, of beautiful veiled ladies, of desert sheikhs, of Caliphs and Sultans their Viziers and harems, and all the wondrous things the world I come from has to offer._

"However, it has been commanded by my esteemed mistress that this unworthy one should be your guide this evening through the menagerie of the strange and unusual, the beautiful and the horrible, the friendly and the fearsome, the human and the inhuman. So come stranger and for a few coppers you can taste delights for all the senses."

The young man with the unkempt hair and newly lit eyes stared at the handsome exotic barker. He was one of those in the flyer. The one that caught his eye. They stood eye to eye. This 6' tall half-elven man in his mid-20s with dark tanned skin, straight black hair short and neat with a colorful headscarf and a well-groomed goatee and mustache.

Najib took no money from the young man with the unkempt hair.

A wave of disappointment flowed over the young man. He wanted to touch Najib.

As if sensing the disappointment, Najib put his hand on the young man's shoulder and led him across the Carnival threshold.

"This way, noble one, I need no coppers from you, for when night falls, we close our doors and send the public back to their homes. Except for you. You do not want to go home do you?"

"No, never."

"Perhaps you are looking for a new home then?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then, you are in luck, we are pulling up stakes tonight, when our mistress returns. Perhaps we can help you find a new home."

"I have."

The two looked at each other a moment.

"Then let me tell you a little about a few of our numbers. Then you can decide whether you truly 'have'.

"All the Troupers have a stage name—something to make them stand out in the public's mind.

"Let me start with something small…


	3. Chapter 3

_We passed the school where children played,_

_Their lessons scarcely done;_

_We passed the fields of gazing grain,_

_We passed the setting sun._

_-Emily Dickinson, Because I could not stop for Death, stanza 3_

Act Two:

The Living Doll

"See the figure sitting there on the stage. The two foot tall figure wearing the Victorian's Gentleman's clothing with the top hat. That is Knick Knack. He looks like a child playing dress up, does he not? Well as you get closer, you will notice the hard lines under his mouth and the red circles on his cheeks, and the brown wood grain of his skin, actually it isn't really skin, it's wood.

"Yes, my noble friend, he is made of wood. In fact, he is a ventriloquist's dummy. A number of years ago, before this unworthy one came to sail these shores, Knick Knack was just a simple doll. But when he came to Carnival all that changed. He became alive. There is only one person here that truly knows anything of his existence before coming here to Carnival, but he will never say. So the troupers mostly speculate.

"His act starts out like a normal ventriloquist's act. Another of the troupers will hold Knick Knack on their lap and they will _talk_ to each other. Then the trouper will get up and put Knick Knack on the chair and leave. Then Knick Knack will continue talking, quite to the amazement of all. He especially likes children. Knick Knack spins elaborate, wonderful tales of his travels with his owner to entertain the children who come to visit him. The stories change with every crowd so, we're not sure if there is any truth to any of them.."

Knick Knack traveled throughout the Core as part of his owners act. His owner was a cruel and selfish man. But an act of treachery cost his owner his life. His owner hired a Half-Vistani as a guide, but once they reached their destination, the ventriloquist tried to kill him by slitting his throat. The two struggled and the ventriloquist died in the struggle. The half-Vistani was lucky that it was not a fatal wound, but it left him without voice. For whatever reason the half-Vistani took Knick Knack with him. Then he happened upon the Carnival. The moment the pair crossed the threshold, Knick Knack became alive. The half-Vistani joined the Skurra as the Pistoleer, and Knick Knack became a Trouper.

Knick Knack was _born_ the moment he crossed over the Carnival threshold. So the only things he knows, he's learned from the other troupers. Knick Knack is very observant, and picks up information quickly. He can speak four of the troupers languages and Orcish. He is an excellent story teller and is very good at working the crowd. He enjoys throwing darts with the other troupers, which he keeps in a bandoleer beneath his waistcoat. He's trying to broaden his act by throwing the darts blindfolded. At the moment he is practicing this by throwing them at the trouper Wood'n'head. Being a child, unfortunately, he is prone to temper tantrums, especially when he doesn't get his way. Only the Pistoleer, whom he thinks of as a father, and Isolde, the mistress of the Carnival, whom he believes gave him life.

"And now for something strange…

The Rock

"See there, that small statue of a dwarf standing by that pile of rocks. That is Gon Stonesplitter. He's not really made of stone, although you couldn't tell except by close inspection. But if you try to get that close, you'll find out exactly how stone-like his fists feel on your face. He was found in a field when we arrived to grace a town in Nova Vaasa with our presence. He had been the victim of a wizard's attack. Some say he was actually turned to stone by a spell called _flesh to stone_, I've never heard of such a spell, but then I'm not a wizard. Others say he was just paralyzed. Whatever it was, he was standing there like a statue. Our esteemed mistress, Isolde, walked right up to him and returned him to his natural state. He doesn't know how long he had been standing there, but he sure was glad we arrived. He had only planned on staying long enough to repay Mistress Isolde for helping him out. That was three years ago and as you can see, he's still here.

"His act is quite simple. He stands there motionless like a statue, for hours sometimes, until someone walks up to him, then he moves, proving he's not a statue. He can also break rocks with his bare hands, hence the pile of them. He'll even invite a strong gilly to use a sledgehammer, which usually sits near the pile of rocks, to _break_ him. It never works. You see, he's strong as stone. Gilly? I'm sorry that's anyone not connected with the carnival, an outsider. Sometimes, he and the Brute, who's on the other side of the midway, get into a strength competition. That's usually a good show. It usually comes out in a draw."

Gon Stonesplitter, like most dwarves in the Demiplane of Dread, is from the city of Tempe Falls in Necropolis. While traveling in Nova Vaasa with his friends they encountered an evil wizard who cast a spell on him that turned him stone. When the carnival arrived, Isolde _dispelled_ the spell, returning him to normal.

The twisting caused by Isolde, took hold of him immediately. His skin can become as hard as stone and is unharmed by a number of edged weapon attacks. When in his _stone form_, he also has added strength_._ He can also blend in with any stone surface.

He is an expert stone mason and creates great works of art in stone, which he sells to the public. Gon can wield any hammer, although he in an expert with the maul.

"I see you've noticed the beautiful woman dancing there and the handsome man with the wheellock belt pistols on his hips, playing the lute, both with painted faces like the harlequins. They are the Crimson Rose and the Pistoleer. They are two of our Skurra. They are Vistani. I know very little about the Skurra. But then, all us humble troupers know little about them. That is another's department."

The sun began to dip below the tree line. Najib bowed low as a woman approached. The young man with the newly-lit eyes turned to see an attractive dark-haired woman stride past them, oblivious to all but her own thoughts. She smiled when she saw Najib bow to her, then continued past him. The woman wore dark blue trousers and high black boots. Her hair flowing behind her. She walked over to the Pistoleer playing the lute. He stopped playing and left the stage he and the Crimson Rose danced on. The Crimson Rose also left the stage. All the Skurra began hustling about.

"Now, if you'll look over there to the violet vardo. That is Madame Fortuna's vardo. She is Vistani. If you are to travel with us, then that is the place to go. You'll notice the Skurra are beginning to pack up. It's called a Tear Down. We're moving on now."


	4. Chapter 4

_We paused before a house that seemed_

_A swelling of the ground;_

_The roof was scarcely visible,_

_The cornice but a mound._

_-Emily Dickinson, Because I could not stop for Death, stanza 4_

Act: Three: The Pistoleer

"Greetings, giorgio. Sit here, before me. Najib directed you here because you needed somewhere to stay while we travel. The Carnival is departing your former home. And you had some questions only I can answer. About the Pistoleer. Very well, I will tell you his tale while we travel to our next location.

"The Troupers gave him his name, the Pistoleer, for the wheellock belt pistols he carries so visibly. It is the only name he will answer to. He is also _giomorgo_, half-Vistani. But then, only a Vistana can see that.

"He came to us about three years ago, with the one called Knick Knack. Things have not changed much since he crossed the threshold of the Carnival. He had no voice then, and he has no voice now. If you get close enough, you will notice his face paint extends down covering his neck, unlike the other Skurra. For on his neck is a scar, painted with the Skurra-vera. It covers the real scar he has across his neck. Someone tried to take his life, unsuccessfully. No one truly knows how he got it. For he did not, and can not tell us how it happened. But one of the tales that little wooden man, Knick Knack tells, is that his former owner gave it to him.

"From the moment he came to us, he was not very social. There are only three he associates with, with any regularity. The first is the Organ Grinder, whom the Troupers believe is his uncle or father. That is more speculation on their part. The second he associates with is the Crimson Rose, whom he plays the lute for and even dances with sometimes. And Isolde.

"Most of the time, you will see him sitting in a quiet corner of the Carnival, feeding the little creatures the Troupers call Creeplings. He is good with the animals, like the Organ Grinder. And prefers their company to that of most people.

"The Troupers do a great deal of speculating about him. Him and our mistress Isolde. He is the only one who has seen the inside of her vardo. The Troupers like to believe they are having a romance. He certainly did bring her out of her shell. She associates much more with the Troupers than she use to. And she spends a great deal of time with him. They even walk about the Carnival together. And he always seems to know where she is. But if there is a romance between them, it is no ones business but theirs.

"He has also tried several times to create a brew that could cure our Hideous Man-Beast of his lycanthropy. But something has happened each time which has prevented him from finishing the brew.

"Well, as you can feel. The vardo has stopped. We have arrived at our destination, and I'm sure Najib will return for you presently."

The Pistoleer is an attractive half-Vistani man who once belonged to the Equaar tribe. Like most half-Vistani, he grew up shunned by the Vistani for his _tainted_ blood. The animals had nothing against his parentage. He enjoys a rapport with the animals traveling with the Carnival similar to that of the Organ Grinder. Like the Organ Grinder, no animal natural or twisted will ever harm him. He seems to care more for the Creeplings. He treats them like his children. Similar to the Organ Grinder, the Pistoleer can summon a swarm of Creeplings to him, by shaking a box of food, like nuts or popcorn. He has also developed a certain rapport with the Hideous Man-Beast, who will not attack him in beast form.


	5. Chapter 5

_Since then 't is centuries; but each_

_Feels shorter than the day_

_I first surmised the horses' heads_

_Were toward eternity._

_- Emily Dickinson, __Because I could not stop for Death__, stanza 5 _

Act Four: Najib

As the young man with the newly lit eyes stood, the door to Madame Fortuna's vardo opened and Najib stood there.

"Hello again my noble friend. Did you learn what you wanted of Madame Fortuna?

"I suspect there is one more you wish to know of. Isn't there? You wish to know of me. My name is Najib al-Auni bin Mutamin. As I said when you first came to us, I'm from a land far from here. I grew up on a great corsair ship sailing the Great Sea in northern Zakhara. My father was a mate on the ship. I never knew my elven mother. I worked my way up from cabin boy. I learned all the positions on the ship, except for captain and first mate. I enjoyed my life and loved the sea. The ship was my home, the crew my family and friends. This was the only life I knew. And I had many great adventures. But they are for another time.

"What brought me to these lands was a dishonorable act by my captain. He and an Outworlder captain began a bloody feud, ending in my captain ambushing his rival in the darkest early morning hours. The act was without honor. 'Life without honor is meaningless,' a Zakharan proverb.

"The battle lasted into the day. The day was clear and the sun rose high in the sky, as the battle raged. Then a great thick fog rose from the sea. It seemed to follow us, overtaking us and plunging the ships in a thick stifling veil of white. Then it grew dark. But minutes later, when we emerged from the fog, we found ourselves here in the dark nights of the Sea of Sorrows. There was another ship, the Relentless, waiting for us. Our captains sent nine men off to the nearby shore in a dingy, while they fought the Relentless. Our ship was sunk, with all hands. But since being here, I've heard tales of what happens to crews who have fallen to the Relentless.

"Our dingy landed in a land called Lamordia. We began traveling this land trying to find, well a way home, a new home, something. But everywhere we went, we were turned away, or driven out. The people here are very xenophobic, afraid of outsiders. Some died at the hands of these fearful people, some died to other _things_, the remainder of us have since scattered. I have seen none since. This land holds great horrors.

"After traveling through these lands for a while, I happened upon the Carnival.

"Perhaps I will tell you my _whole_ story, but not today. My act? Most of the time, I'm a barker. I tell the tales of the Troupers. But I'm also a Funambulist, a tightrope walker. I use the Guys, the heavy ropes that help to support poles or high wire rigging.

"I'm new among the Troupers, a First of May, someone new to the carnival. I've only been here a little under a year. Ones like Knick Knack and Gon are Kinkers, experienced performers."

Like all the people of the Corsair Domains, he is independent, strong-willed, and self-reliant. He cherishes his personal freedom, and is proud and adventurous. He is also very friendly and sincere, and enjoys telling tales of his adventures on the Great Sea. He has a million of them. He considers himself an honorable man and would fight anyone who questions it. He is very reliable. Most everyone in the Carnival likes him.

He is a 6' tall half-elven man in his mid-20s with dark tanned skin. He is lean and muscular, being in excellent shape from his years on the Great Sea. He keeps his straight black hair short and has a well-groomed goatee and mustache. Like all corsairs, he favors practical working clothes: a lightweight shirt with billowing sleeves, pantaloons, and supple black boots. Instead of a belt he wears colorful sashes and headscarves and many earrings. He is armed with a Jambiya and a cutlass, which appears to be worn through the sash. Although he is proficient in the wheellock belt pistol, which he learned from the Pistoleer, he rarely wears them or rather no one _sees_ him wear them. He is also considered to be a Wisp, a trouper who can still pass undetected in mundane society. This, and his friendly personality is why he is one of the Carnival barkers.

Najib has no real act. Since he is a wisp, he acts mostly as barker. But occasionally he does a bit of an acrobatic show and tightrope walker. From his years aboard a ship, he can walk a tightrope and tumble. He is also good with a rope and does tailoring. Najib is a very charming man, and his exotic appearance only helps. Since arriving in the Carnival he has become even more charming. So much so that he can charm any person as if casting a spell.

"Now, my noble friend, have you truly found a new home?" Najib smiled at the young man.

The man with newly lit eyes returned Najib's smile. "Yes."

A/N: Well? What do you think? As I said, I rewrote the gaming stats. This is the first of my Carnival stories. I had to get this one out before I can post my others. As I said, I wrote this in the style of the Carnival supplement, which is why there is mostly narrative and little descriptions.


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